The Fight for Helheim
by Satsuriku-Sama
Summary: Ravenna is the last of a long line of royalty. When her life is turned to chaos, she desperately tries to land on her feet. Will she learn to overcome her pride to accept the help she obviously needs?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**  
I am finally back! It has been a couple of years since I last posted anything here, so bear with me. I also warn, that I am in no mood to be 100% historically, mythologically, and cinematographically accurate, this is, after all, a fan fiction. with that in mind, I hope you enjoy this new concotion.

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The party bored her. The pianist was an old man as blind as a bat. She was impressed he even saw the grand piano in front of him. The host was a leech. Always trying to lure her into some private corner to do gods know what. She sighed as she watched the dance floor from her perch by the bar. She would have loved to dance, but as the host's date (and main attraction, by the clothes he gave her to wear) she was entitled only to the main dance with said host, and that had been a disaster, for her dignity and her toes.

"Here you go, miss. Might want to slow down, though." The bartender who had been supplying her patience, no, her drinks, handed her a tall glass of champagne with a dark cherry sunk to its depths.

"Thank you, Fred." She ignored his advice, suppressing a scoff. Taking a drink, she recapitulated how she had gotten here.

_*flashback*_

She woke up with the stench. Apparently, she had fallen in an alley of sorts. Standing and taking in her surroundings, she noticed the pattern on the floor from the Bifrost. She didn't know who the gatekeeper of the Bifrost was, but whoever it was, he/she/it would be seething, as she had managed to pass through under a spell, and not their consent. Not that it was her choice.

Looking down on herself, she decided to conceal her true form. If this was indeed Midgard, she would want to remain hidden. The little performance that was second nature to her seemed to exhaust her, and she stumbled.

'Careful with that, then…' she thought to herself, but one look over her form had her satisfied. Long sleeves and pants covered most of her skin.

She started walking towards the noise of the streets, grateful for her vast library back home where she could study the worlds.

'Home?' she laughed bitterly. 'Why would _home_ banish me to this puny world?'

Given, she wasn't a saint, but honestly no one was back where she came from. To survive, you had to be ruthless, cold, unforgiving. Basically, kill who is in your way, or get killed. She had been stupid enough to let herself fall in lo—no. she wouldn't say it. The monster she had learned to live with (yes, that's better) had used her as an excuse to rise to the throne. Then, had simply thrown her to the dungeons. When she finally woke up in the stinking, wet hole with many prisoners pressed against the wall in fear of her, her anger had flared. Literally. All the prisoners were turned to ash in a flash of blinding white light, and the iron gate had melted. She had done a perfect job of concealing who she was, but now was time for revenge. Transforming herself to her true form, she searched the halls of the king's castle (_Her_ castle) burning, choking, breaking bones, killing everyone she encountered, and when she finally saw the man she had married sitting on _her_ throne, she wasted no words with him. Taking a mere second to appreciate the panic in his dark eyes, she opened her jaws wide and swallowed him whole.

What happened next was a blur. She felt a searing pain in her stomach, forcibly transporting her to Midgard. When she woke up, she knew exactly what had happened. A simple projection had fooled her. A simple projection, carrying a banishment potion. She had no way of going back, at least not without the Allfather's help. And she was sure the bastard she had tried to swallow had made sure he couldn't see her.

So, to try and calm down, she had decided to learn where she was, and find a way to live until she could gather information on how to return. Tactics were never her strong, but she was by no means ignorant to the point of panicking.

After a few hours of walking around she got bored with the night and sat on a bench by a park. She eyed the homeless gathered around a fire, eyeing her. The cold never bothered her. She half scoffed, half laughed.

Nothing could bother a Lohikäärme.

Nothing could bother a Dragon of Helheim.

_*end of flashback*_

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_Please review! It encourages and polishes the soul!_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:  
I thought the first chapter a bit too short, So I'm posting the second one right away.

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Nothing could bother a Lohikäärme.

Nothing could bother a Dragon of Helheim.

_*end of flashback*_

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So, by being smart, laying low and meeting the right people, she had gotten herself a nice apartment in London, close to the university library. It was nothing compared to _her_ castle, but it was considered a "rich" neighbourhood. She scoffed into her drink. These petty humans couldn't even fathom what rich meant.

"Such a pretty lady shouldn't scoff into her drink." She heard a smooth voice to her right. Turning, she put on one of her well trained masks. Standing next to her, was a tall, slender man, wearing a tuxedo like most men here. His green tie brought out his eyes, and his dark hair was sleeked back. He was handsome, even for a human.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm accompanied." She smiled apologetically as Fred the bartender handed him a glass with golden liquid. Her eyes were caught to the colour, but she quickly looked back at him. "And I really must be going, I have an early day tomorrow." She finished her glass of champagne in a gulp and fished the cherry out with a cocktail stick. Making a show of sucking the cherry before plopping it into her mouth, she turned and swayed her hips as she left for the coat room.

"My _dear_, where are you going?" the host called across the floor, turning all attention to her. It took a second to realize that he was talking to her, and she turned, accepting her coat from the doorman.

"I must apologize, Henry, but I have an early day tomorrow." She accepted a kiss on the knuckles, suppressing a shudder of disgust, and turned to leave. As she passed the bar again, the man from before raised his glass to her and smirked. She ignored it easily and left the party. At the end of the steps a town car waited for her. She smiled briefly at the chauffeur and slid gracefully into the seat.

Her apartment was little more than 10 minutes away, so she barely had time to relax when they had arrived. Slipping a bill into the chauffeur's gloved palm as he helped her out, she ascended the steps to the elevator. Pressing the button to the penthouse, she slipped off her unnecessary coat, kicked her shoes off, gathered them from the floor, and entered her apartment.

Slipping out of the dress she wore, she entered her bath and turned the knob by the tub. After a few moments, it was full with steaming water, and she stepped in, sighing. The makeup she had plastered on her arms and back slowly tainted the water, even more so when she rubbed at her legs to wash it all off. She studied the markings that looked like tattoos. They sprouted from her shoulder blades, curling their way along her arms and legs, the black lines marring her perfect white skin. Well…not perfect. Though it was easy to conceal, the many scars were hideous. Especially the ones on her back, from when a sorcerer tried to rip off her wings. He had made a handsome splatter on the wall.

As the minutes ticked by, she sat alone in her soap bubbles and thought about tomorrow's trip to Ireland. She wanted to study the mystical legends there and see if there was anything to help her get home. She had no idea, even after four years stuck in this world, after trying countless times to go back, to reclaim _her_ throne.

Sighing, she stepped out of the bath and exhaled, a gust of warm wind spiraling her naked body, drying her off. Stepping into her bedroom, she didn't even bother with clothes, only letting herself fall to the silk sheets. Tomorrow was a full day. Her eyes started drooping, and her breathing evened out.

Until her eyes shot open.

Something was wrong.

There was someone in the apartment.

She sniffed the air, pulling on a silk robe. She padded through the hall. After checking all the rooms, she started to think she was just paranoid. Shrugging, she gathered a book she had _borrowed_ from a professor at the university and went back to the living room, thinking she would sleep later.

"I never understood how women could spend a whole night dancing on these."

Startled, she looked in the direction of the voice. The man from the bar was sitting on her sofa, one of her shoes in his hand. He was currently examining the high heels.

"You're quiet." She admitted as she sat calmly on the sofa in front of him. Internally, her mind was racing. What were the escape routes? How had he gotten in? What did he want?

"I have a proposal." He said as if he could read her mind, as he put her shoe back where he found it.

"I am not interested." She lazily opened the book in her lap.

"Really?" she saw him shift his weight off the corner of her eye.

"I suggest you leave, whoever you are." Turning a page, she could see this book would lead her nowhere close to home, just as the others.

"My name, if it interests you," he stood and made his way to the door. "Is Loki, of Asgard."

"Asgard?" Her book fell with a dull thud to the ground.

"Interested now?" he turned, his hand still on the doorknob.

Thoughts raced through her mind, her banishment, her plans, the clues she had gathered throughout the years, the possibilities…but also the danger of this being some scheme to capture her. Many were interested in her powers, many wanted to kill her.

"The Allfather has brought his attention to you, but it eludes us as to _what_ you actually are, and why you're here. Care to elaborate?" he stepped closer.

"No." she eyed him and stood, stepping into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water to give her hands something to do.

"You realize, that he is trying to help you." Loki leaned on the kitchen counter next to her. He smirked at the way she froze at his proximity.

"Then why did he not come himself?" she took several steps away from him.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, his head tilting in amusement.

"Should I be?" she retorted.

"I come bearing good news, woman." His eyebrows knitted in irritation.

"Why, are you going to open a portal to my home and let me pass with nothing in return?" she raised her eyebrow in defiance.

"No." She was slowly getting on his nerves. His father, Odin, had sent him here to retrieve this…they didn't even know what she was. Heimdall had said someone had used the Bifrost without his knowing, and he couldn't keep track of her. That caught the Allfather's attention. So, Loki, the Silvertongue, was sent to retrieve her.

"Then you are of no use to me." She motioned to the door. "You can show yourself out." She turned and went back to the bedroom.

Loki sighed. This was more difficult than he thought. Usually women preferred his brother, but in his absence, the God of Mischief had no problems in seducing. Or convincing. He started to walk after her, when he heard a loud crash, the woman swearing, and then running past him to the door.

Looking back to the hall, men in black uniforms were chasing after her. With a quick flick of her wrist, a gust of hot, dry wind threw everyone, including Loki, to the ground. Dazed, he stood and calmly adjusted his hair. He curiously watched as the men screamed in agony at burns in their skins, and studied his own hands. Not a scratch. He still felt quite cool. Putting the thought aside for a moment, he turned to one of the men who tried to clobber him, but a few broken necks later, there were none left to annoy him, or chase her.

Projecting himself inside the elevator, he pressed the emergency button for it to stop. The woman was panting frantically, staring at him with a mixture of hatred and confusion. He ignored it, and without a word, pressed the button to the penthouse. When the doors opened again, his projection flickered and disappeared, the real him standing in the hall before her door.

"Asgard is offering you protection." He stated simply, extending his hand.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked, still calming down from having seen a projection after so many years.

"You don't." he didn't move.

She heard sirens outside of the building. She looked to the button panel in the elevator, then at his extended hand. After a few seconds, she growled softly under her breath, but stepped closer to him.

"Take me to Asgard." She said.

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Again, I ask: do kindly review!


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